Homecoming
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: Emma nodded before taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders. She was clearly shoring up her courage for the question she was about to ask. "Do you really think we can be happy here? In this house, I mean." (or, Emma and Killian make a home together)


**Author's Note:** This is what is known as a majorly insistent plotbunny. I actually had a different version of it all written out but didn't at all like the execution of it. I still liked the idea, so I reworked it into what you see below, which I like a lot better. Mama Snow and Captain Swan goodness here, ladies and gents! Feedback is a writer's ice cream sundae! Hope you like. :)

* * *

Snow White had known her daughter for what was in her opinion far too few years. She could count the number of times over those far too few years that she had seen her Emma simply pick at her meal on one hand.

Today, unfortunately, was one of those times.

This impromptu mother-daughter lunch date at Granny's had been a joint effort between her and Charming. Their little girl needed to learn to build some relaxation time into her days. Who better to teach her than her parents?

As expected, Emma had tried to insist that she couldn't go. She had too much paperwork to catch up on and her patrol was in twenty minutes! When Charming offered to take both her paperwork and her patrol, she didn't have an argumentative leg to stand on. So now here she and Snow sat in a booth across from each other at Granny's. Snow at least was eating her lunch. Emma was simply spinning a French fry in the puddle of ketchup on her plate, her mind seemingly miles elsewhere.

"Is everything all right, Emma?" Snow asked, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Though Emma was indeed getting better with sharing what was bothering her, her first instinct when asked was still to insist everything was fine, even when it clearly wasn't.

An achingly familiar conflict crossed Emma's features. The young part of Emma who hadn't had parents to rely on clearly wanted to speak her mind but the independent part of Emma wanted just as badly to handle it herself like she always had. It was an internal conflict Snow hadn't seen in a while, a slight shoring up of the walls Snow had been sure were trampled to the ground.

Snow wanted nothing more than to wrap her baby girl in the tightest hug known to man until all her misgivings went away. It took everything she had to silence that instinct. She'd learned a thing or two about comforting Emma when they were in the Underworld. Nurturing and pushing comfort wouldn't help Emma speak her mind. No, she simply needed patience.

So Snow remained patient. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, Emma put the French fry down and looked Snow in the eye. "Mom? Can I ask you something?"

She sounded _young_. So young in fact that Snow once again had to force herself to remain seated and not smother her little girl with comforting hugs. "Of course, baby."

The pet name slipped out unbidden. Snow chalked it up to the vulnerability in Emma's tone. To Snow's immense relief, it didn't seem to faze Emma.

That said, it still took another moment or two for her to get the question out. "You and Dad … when you took back your kingdom, you moved back into the palace. I mean, you had to. But if you hadn't had to … do you think you would have gone back where so many bad things happened?"

All of a sudden, Snow understood was what behind her baby's sullen mood: the house. Her poor Emma was clearly having a hard time feeling comfortable in a place that held such bad memories for her. It didn't help that with all her bouncing around, she'd never stayed in one place long enough to learn how to push past the bad memories and forge new ones instead.

Oh, her poor sweet baby girl.

Snow took a deep breath as she mulled over the best way to answer her daughter's question. The last thing she wanted to do was make her feel like she was simply being placated. In the end, she opted for honesty. "Yes, Emma, I think I would have gone back even if I hadn't had to. The palace was my home and it was taken it from me. Of course I wanted it back."

Emma's gaze shifted to her plate, and Snow winced. Too late she realized that her poor little girl still only had the vaguest definition of home. "It wasn't just home because it was a place, though, Emma," she continued. "It was home because of the memories that it housed and the people that were there."

That only succeeded in making Emma frown at her. "It housed so many bad memories, though. How could you be sure that you and Dad could make a fresh start there?"

"Because I knew we would make a lot more good memories there."

"Maybe," Emma shrugged, "but what if the place houses nothing but bad memories?"

"Then it's all the more important to make good ones." Snow's heart sank when Emma didn't appear at all convinced. She even picked the French fry back up and resumed swirling it through the ketchup. She wanted so badly to help but something, some little instinct, told her that it wasn't a mother's advice Emma really needed. "Emma, please look at me."

Emma let out a soft sigh but she did indeed look up.

"I've made myself a home in multiple places, mostly out of necessity. I am more than willing to give you all the advice I can but the the best advice I can give you for this particular situation is that this is a conversation that you really need to be having with Killian."

Her poor baby girl slumped back in her seat. "I know. It's just that … it's complicated."

"Are you worried there's going to be an argument?"

"No, I'm afraid of the exact opposite. He wants me to be happy so badly that I'm afraid he's just going to go along with whatever I want. But it can't be just my decision. It affects the both of us so we both have to come to an agreement. Plus my thoughts are all over the place and his probably are, too, so maybe we shouldn't even make a decision right now. I just don't even know."

Snow was stunned. She hadn't expected to get that much out of her baby girl and as such was at kind of a loss as to how to proceed.

After a beat, it came to her. She reached across the table for her little girl's hand. A smile tugged at her lips when Emma accepted the comfort and slipped her hand into her mother's. "You need to give him a chance, sweetheart," Snow said gently. "Lay all your cards on the table and let him know that you want to know how he really feels, too. You both need to know how the other feels in order to see where you both stand."

Emma nodded and gave her mother a small but grateful smile. "So basically, even True Love requires communication, huh?"

Snow chuckled and ran her thumb over the back of her little girl's hand. "'Fraid so, baby."

* * *

Killian arrived home from an errand that evening to find his Swan scrubbing the kitchen range. That in an of itself wasn't unusual; they'd both spent the better part of the past few days cleaning anything and everything because the weeks of disuse while everyone was in the Underworld had left behind stale air, musty sheets, and dusty furniture. Still, Emma's vigor with the sponge seemed a touch excessive. "Emma, love?" he asked as he stepped fully into the kitchen. "Is everything all right?"

Emma started at the sound of his voice. She turned around and as their eyes met, her shoulders visibly slumped. The anxious expression on her face didn't help matters.

 _Uh oh_ , Killian thought. This certainly didn't bode well.

"Yeah," she said in answer to his question. "Well, no. Maybe. Ugh, I don't know. Look, can we talk about something?"

No, this was not boding well at all. "You've no idea how those words can cause a man's heart to seize in his chest, Swan," Killian said as he took a seat at the table.

"It's nothing bad," Emma sighed as she sat down across from him. "Not really."

Her nervousness was not setting Killian at ease in the slightest. The past few days had been … not exactly difficult but not easy, either. The two of them were still trying to find their footing as a couple under the same roof while simultaneously dealing with the consequences of Hyde's arrival in Storybrooke. The "savior hotline," as Emma called it, had kept everyone pretty busy both day and night. In what little downtime they'd had, the two of them had mostly been trying to figure out how to move forward.

Killian knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Emma loved him. She'd gone down to the Underworld for him; they were True Love, for Zeus' sake. However, he did have to admit to being somewhat afraid that Emma's dormant fight or flight instinct was once again rearing its ugly head … with Emma having a hard time not choosing flight.

He could still see them, the walls he'd broken down. They were little more than rubble now but he feared it wouldn't take much for the rubble to rebuild itself into a fortress. So when she talked, he swallowed down his own anxiety and listened intently.

"I have a question for you," she said, looking him in the eye, "but before I ask it, I want you to promise me that you'll answer honestly."

"Have I ever not?"

That got her to smile a little. "No but I just need to know that you're not just going to tell me what you think I want to hear."

Killian's heart skipped another beat. What in blazes could possibly be on her mind? "All right, love," he replied, nodding in acquiescence. "I promise to answer with the truth."

Emma nodded before taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders. She was clearly shoring up her courage for the question she was about to ask. "Do you really think we can be happy here? In this house, I mean."

He blinked at her, speechless. Of course they could be happy here. They could be _blissfully_ happy here. That was why he and Henry had chosen this house in particular. They both thought she would "love it to pieces," as the lad had said. Had they chosen wrong? Did she not like it? "Aye, Emma, I think we can be very happy here and I thought you thought we could, too. Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know, it's just ..." She heaved a sigh and tore her gaze from his, squirming uncomfortably in her chair.

"Emma, love, look at me."

She was immobile for a beat before raising her eyes to once again meet his. He held her gaze, silently imploring her to speak what was on her mind. He wanted her to tell him. He wanted her to feel like she could always be honest. He wanted her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she didn't have to hide behind her walls anymore.

His Swan must have gotten the message because first she let out a soft sigh and then everything came out in a rush. "Killian, we're sleeping on sheets we didn't pick out, we're sitting on furniture that we don't find comfortable, and we're looking at artwork on the walls that neither of us can stand. Not to mention that so much has happened here … so much darkness, so much betrayal. Do you really think we can be happy where I was the Dark One and you found out that I'd turned you into one, too? Do you really think we can be happy in the place where I went to mourn you? And that's not even getting into the Underworld version of this place ..."

And there she stopped because the tears that had been building in her eyes finally spilled over. Killian was out of his seat in an instant. He dashed over to her and gathered her into a tight hug. "Oh, Emma," he whispered when she clung to him with fervor. "Of course we can be happy here."

"How? It holds nothing but bad memories."

"Not for me, love. I remember picking out this house with your lad. I remember the conversations we had, how we'd planned to surprise you with it. I remember you telling me that you wanted a future with me, how happy that made me. I remember how we spent nights in Camelot talking about furniture and paint colors, just to give you something to look forward to. Right now the bad memories may outnumber the good ones but they won't always, not if we don't let them."

She pulled out of the hug and sniffled. She was silent, sending Killian's heart sinking into his stomach. "Emma, if you want, we can find another house–"

" _No_ ," she said insistently. She blinked, clearly surprised by her own vehemence. When she spoke again, it was with a little more confidence. "No. I don't want another house, Killian. You and Henry picked this one out for us and it's perfect. I just … don't know how to get past our beginnings here."

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that getting past beginnings requires moving forward. You mentioned being uncomfortable with the linens and the furniture. We could start there. We'll go through the house, decide what we want to keep and what we want to replace. We'll pick out linens and furniture and décor. We'll take the Dark One out and bring us in. Hopefully those changes will help you feel a little more at home. The good memories will take time to build and drown out the bad ones but I promise you, Emma, we can do it."

She searched his eyes, looking for sincerity. "You really think so?"

"I do, love. After all, we make quite the team."

Finally, she smiled. "Yeah, I guess we do."

He smiled as well, softly pressing his thumb into the dimple in her chin. "So we're staying?"

"We're staying."

* * *

Emma was not at all surprised when Henry decided to call their redecoration project Operation Homecoming.

Room by room, the three of them took the house down to brass tacks. What they liked stayed, what they didn't like went.

A _lot_ of stuff went, which meant a _lot_ of stuff needed to be replaced. They bought new bedding for all the bedrooms. Sheets, comforters, pillows, the whole nine yards. Killian talked Emma into springing for Egyptian cotton sheets, simply because he thought it sounded exotic. Emma couldn't really tell the difference just yet – Snow told her she would after a few laundry cycles – but she liked how happy they made Killian. As for Emma herself, she might have gone a touch overboard with the throw pillows. The multitude of pillows made the bed look both cozy and lush, though, so she and Killian both agreed to let them stay.

They bought new artwork for the walls. Prints of tall ships on a serene ocean replaced pictures of dark forests. Henry insisted on putting up various pictures of their family, which delighted the little girl still inside Emma who'd always wanted a home with family pictures covering the walls. The artwork Emma herself picked were prints of open landscapes or pictures of an aurora in the night sky, pictures that relaxed her and made her feel at peace.

Some furniture they replaced, some they just made a little more home-y with throw pillows, cushions, and soft, cozy blankets.

They left the wallpaper as it was – Emma liked the soft floral patterns and felt they were an authentic fit with the house's architecture – but they bought new window shades and curtains. They dusted and vacuumed and Febrezed and polished the appliances until they gleamed.

It took a while, especially with the savior hotline ringing constantly, but day by day and little by little, the light overtook the darkness.

And day by day and little by little, the house began to feel like home.

When she and Killian finally put the finishing touches on the last room, they stood together and surveyed their work. "What do you think, love?" Killian asked after a moment.

"I think we've finally chased the darkness out and ushered home in," she replied, smiling up at him.

It was decided then that they would have her parents, her baby brother, and Henry over for dinner. "Like a little housewarming party," she said to Snow when she made the call to invite them,"but please don't bring a present."

Snow brought a small present anyway: a candle scented a soft blend of vanilla and mint, Emma's favorite. Emma rolled her eyes but she couldn't resist setting it on an end table in the living room and lighting it right then and there.

After taking her parents on a tour of the house, Emma threw together some spaghetti and meatballs, Killian tossed a salad, and everyone had a great meal while gushing over what they'd done to the place.

Emma, Snow, and David gathered in the living room after dinner, Emma squeezed in on the sofa between her mother and her father. Killian and Henry were seated on the floor playing some sort of dice game, her mother was cradling her baby brother, David had his arm around Emma, and Emma had her head resting on her dad's shoulder.

For a while, Emma shut her eyes and let herself drift on the soft lullaby her mother was humming for the squirt. "You all did a remarkable job with the house, Emma," David said, his soft voice startling her back to awareness. "It's a perfect combination of the two of you."

Emma smiled at him. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"It really is, Emma," Snow agreed, a gentle smile on her lips. "How does it feel to be home?"

Emma glanced around the room before settling her gaze on Killian. The lost little boy and the lost little girl had done what they'd previously thought impossible. With the help of their family, they'd made a home together. "Honestly?" she said, returning her attention to her parents, who were both looking at her so lovingly that it made her heart melt. "It feels pretty damn amazing."


End file.
